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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



Sparkling Shots 



BY 

KATHRYN HUNT JAMES 

Author of "Glints' 



A Compilation from The Sioux City Stylus 
Sioux City, Iowa 



Published by The Author 

1909 



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Copyright 1909 

By KATHRYN HUNT JAMES 



CI.A2534iJ0 



Sparkling Shots 



If the Creator hadn't have seen fit to have 
created me a woman with all the inherent 
feminine traits that have been handed down 
since Eve trespassed in the garden of Eden. 
I thinlv I should have chosen to become an 
eligible bachelor. He certainly holds trump 
cards in the game of life in this part of the 
country at any rate, where parents with a 
family of girls are dead anxious to get them 
married off and where eligible mates are 
as rare as butterflies in a turnip patch. He 
has the entree to the very best homes in the 
city if he is in any ways eligible; invitations 
to dinners and dances are showered upon 
the fortunate victim of maneuvering mam- 
mas and designing daughters galore. 

Theatre parties, picnics and excursions of 
all sorts are planned in order that he may be 
tiirown in the company of some sweet, in- 
nocent young thing who plays her hand in 
the matrimonial game with the skilled cun- 
ning of a veteran gambler. He doesn't need 
much stock in trade, the eligible bachelor, 
an appropriate suit for social occasions, an 
agreeable manner, a knowledge of cards, a 
willingness to dance with the fat old dames 



who line up against the wall during the terp- 
sichorean affairs, and an unlimited amount 
of small talk are all that are necessary. If 
his linen is immaculate society doesn't care 
a picayune how foul is his character. 

It doesn't cost the E. B. much to shine 
socially for rival maneuvering mammas con- 
sider it quite honor enough if he accepts in- 
vitations to their sumptuous repasts; they 
don't expect a poor lorn bachelor to do any 
entertaining. He is petted and pampered by 
femininity both old and young, who treat 
him as though he were a little tin god, until 
his egotism becomes obnoxious. He fondly 
Imagines all this attention is due to his 
charming personality, when in reality 'tis 
due to the fact that women are a drug on 
the matrimonial market and men are at a 
premium. 

Of all the colossal selfishness that ever 
existed the eligible bachelor certainly has 
the lion's share and the women themselves 
have contributed materially to his condition 
by their foolish palavering. Wooing has 
been made so easy and courting possesses 
so little resistance to the eligible swain and 
the fact is so apparent that he can have his 
pick in the rose bud garden of girls, that he 
flutters from one to the other as undecid- 
ed which one to choose as the elusive bee 
which flower to settle upon; he procrastin- 
ates in the garden of love until he is either 
given up as hopeless by designing daughters 
and maneuvering mammas and drifts into 
old bachelorhood or finally plucks one of the 

6 



willin' Barcuses and is out of the matrimon- 
ial market entirely. 

No wonder men don't propose and mat- 
rimony is rapidly growing obsolete. There 
is no chance in the game whatever, he is a 
sure winner. The course of true love runs 
as smoothly as the placid water of a ripple- 
less stream. Better have the swain run the 
gamut of clubs in the hands of natives like 
the Aboriginese in order to win his bride 
than have her thrown at his head. Stock 
in the matrimonial market would go up in- 
stanter if the pathway were more rugged 
and the swains would clamber over them- 
selves in order to win out in the contest; 
nature intended man to be the pursuer and 
woman the eluder and naught is gained by 
turning the tables. 



Life is full and running over with little 
tragedies; occasionally we get a glimpse into 
the real self of the people with whom we 
touch elbows day after day. One day last 
week an old fellow — nay he was not old save 
from his white hair, seamed face, and knotty, 
toil h£;.Tdened hands, for not more than 
seven or eight and two score years had pass 
ed over his head and his heart was young — 
he told me of his life's little tragedy and 
how his heart was starved for the things for 
which he most longed. No amusement of 



any sort eyer came into his life to relieve 
the monotony of his day's drudgery on the 
farm; he toiled from morning until night for 
the necessities and comforts of his family; 
he seldom saw a face save those of his own 
little circle. He only upon rare occasions 
had an opportunity of touching elbows with 
this big, delightful old world so full of in- 
teresting people and things. 

His wife was a home lover to a degree and 
held amusements as frivilous and unneces- 
sary; her family and her home were suf- 
ficient for her happiness and she couldn't 
or wouldn't understand the heart hunger of 
her husband for diversion from the every 
day routine. Their tastes were utterly and 
entirely different and she couldn't see that 
because of it he is gradually slipping the 
home leash; this night the lonely old fellow 
wandered aimlessly about in search of some 
innocent amusement and finally drifted into 
one of the moving picture shows whither 
he was drawn by the garish light. As he 
lost himself in the throng I marveled that 
woman could be so blind — maybe it is self- 
ishness with some or indiference. I be- 
lieve it is the duty of every woman who is 
fortunate enough to possess a good and 
worthy husband to at least occasionally give 
in to his harmless whims even if she does 
in her heart deride them. 

I know of one of the happiest young 
couples in existence who owe their happi- 
ness entirely to the fact that the sensible 
young woman catered to her husband's hob- 



bies. He was a lover of the rod and reel 
and in fact a veritable gipsy for out of door 
sports; the young woman was a lover of 
home and indoor pleasures but she made up 
her mind to share his sports with him and 
learn to enjoy the things he enjoyed. She 
is as much of a gipsy now as he and the 
twain go off on long jaunts together, each 
entirely sufficient unto the other; there is 
naught to mar their complete harmony and 
they are as devoted to each other as ttiey 
were in the days of their honeymoon. 

Harmony in taste is one of the principal 
essentials to domestic happiness. It stands 
to reason that a book worm and a butterfly 
will have nothing in common; a bob o' link 
and a doormouse wouldn't harmonize; a 
snail and a hare would never make an 
equal race; an intellectual giant and a dul- 
lard would make sorry business of a life to- 
gether. The delicfite and refined would be 
out of harmony with the coarse and un- 
couth. 

A music lover should by all means marry 
a musician else he will feel the great loss 
all his life of the exquisite harmonies that 
mean so much to him. A dreamer and 
theorist would be unspeakably miserable 
with a too earthly helpmeet and a practi- 
cal nature would be all out of harmony with 
an artistic, soulful temperament. Inhar- 
monious tastes are the cause of half the 
domestic discords of life. 



Commercialism is the wheel of Jugger- 
naught that crushes out the hope, the joy, 
the bea-uty, aye, and the very life itself of 
the women, who, from choice or necessity 
enter its portals. The steady, monotonous 
grind from morning until night, year in and 
year out, the continual and everlasting 
scrimping and economizing to make both 
ends meet, the constant denying of pleasures 
beyond the possibilities of one's purse, the 
turning and twisting of gowns already worn 
threti-dbare — this eternally penny counting 
business wears a woman out body and soul. 

In every normal woman's heart there 
lurks the love for the beautiful; it's quite as 
natural for her to long to decorate herself 
with pretty garments as it is for a pecccock 
to be vain of its tailfeathers; the hardest 
lesson a business woman has to learn is to 
deny herself pretty clothes. The Creator 
put her in the world to be ornamental as 
well as useful, and she longs to fulfill her 
mission to the fullest, but her slender purse 
must be the balast that keeps her within 
reason, and her common sense adjures her 
to pass up the pretty vanities for the 
plainer, more substantial things of life. 
That's what tries her soul, this ever- 
lastingly putting up with the plain things. 
In selecting her gowns she is compelled to 
go by its wearing qualities instead of style 
or shade; in choosing her headgear she 
must be conservative in style, because 
forsooth, it must wear her another 
year. As to her pedal extremities, she has 

10 



to buy the commonest kind of walking 
shoes, with heavy, substantial soles — no 
French heels or paper soles for her. 

Even her appetite must be amendable to 
the strictest economy and only the plainest 
and cheapest of edibles must make up her 
bill of fare. Not only must her physical 
appetite remain partly unappeased, but her 
soul must starve for the things for which 
it hopelessly yearns. She has neither time 
nor money for books or flowers or music. 
The pitiful little economies she is compelled 
to practice warp her nature and shrivel her 
soul. Her life is a plain, cold, hard propo- 
sition for her, utterly bereft of all that goes 
to make it worth living. 

Over yonder on the table lies a late mag- 
azine whose uncut leaves cry out for neg- 
lect; its owner is a business woman and has 
only had time to glance hurriedly over the 
index and scan a few of the illustrations — 
and it's mighty tempting with its leaves 
moist and damp from the very freshness of 
the printers' ink. On the piano lie snatches 
from the latest opera that remain untried 
for lack of time. Peeping from the work 
basket are partially made patterns of deli- 
cate lace which feminine fingers fairly 
tingle to get mixed up in, but alack aday, 
unpaid bills swinging from their hooks pre- 
clude any such delight — the sordid com- 
mercial world has first claim. 

O yum! I wish I had a limitless bank ac- 
count — I'd buy gowns as delicate and flim- 
sy and as destructible as a spider's web; 

11 



I'd buy paper-soled, patent leather shoes, or- 
namented with ridiculous little bows, and 
I'd have enough pairs to make a centipede 
rejoice. I'd buy gee-gaws and glittering 
baubles galore; I'd buy gold chains and 
ropes of pearl enough to choke a giraffe. 
I'd wear sparkling gems on every finger I 
possessed including my thumbs. I'd live 
on ambrosia and quaff nectar fit for the 
gods. I'm sick of scrimping and economiz- 
ing; I'm sick of everlastingly counting the 
pennies; I'm tired of the plain, substantial 
things of life, and if I had a limitless bank 
account — ye gods, wouldn't I make ducks 
and drakes of it! 



The god of the elements in this neck o' 
the woods is as capricious at this time of 
the year as milady coquette. He smiles and 
frowns and weeps by turn; one minute his 
subjects are basking in the warm, effulgent 
rays of cheery old Sol and the next are 
drenched by the sprinkling carts of old Jup- 
iter Pluvius, who has been working over- 
time of late. One minute his subjects are 
softly fanned by the gentle zephyrs of 
heaven and the next are roughly buffetted by 
a fierce, wild wind. He gives very little 
premonition of his moods and a day of sun- 
shine is as like as not to end in a war of 
the elements accompanied by mutterings 

12 



and rumblings and oft' times the heavy can- 
nonading of heaven's artillery- 
Last evening the waters of the pretty lit- 
tle lake that winds in and out of Nebraska's 
shores like a great, silver ribbon, lapped the 
beach as gently as a canine might lap the 
hand of a kind master. It's placid bosom re- 
flected the twilight's delicate coloring as a 
chameleon reflects its surroundings. The 
only sound to be heard was the steady dip 
of the oars as a muscular boatman pulled 
steadily for the opposite shore. The wave- 
lets followed the strokes in laughing little 
ripples on the surface of the lake; the gen- 
tle breeze fanned our faces and toyed play- 
fully with the loose strands of our hair as 
we sat in silent enjoyment of our surround- 
ings. Someone in a distant camp was strum- 
ming a guitar while now and then in the 
distance could be heard the hoarse call of 
a cat bird or the musical chee of one of na- 
ture's song birds. The face of nature wore 
the beatific smile of a sleeping babe — the 
god of the elements was in a gentle mood 
and all was well. 

But presto! No sooner had we sought our 
couches beneath our canvas roof than we 
began to detect a change in the mood of the 
weather god. Distant mutterings and rumb- 
lings, forked lightning that darted ever and 
anon from the darkening heavens like the 
hissing tongue of a serpent foretold an im- 
pending storm. The cottonwoods overhead 
commenced to rustle their leaves and nod 
their heads as the gentle zephyrs became a 

13 



little boisterous. The weather god began to 
marshal his forces in earnest. The distant 
mutterings grew more distinct, the lightning 
more vivid and the fluttering leaves of the 
cottonwoods began to swish before the wind. 

In a few seconds the god of the elements 
began to vent his fury. The swish of the 
cottonwoods changed to a roar before the 
fury of the gale, the lightning lit up the 
heavens from dome to horizon with its lurid, 
sulphurious glow, while the cannonading 
from heaven's artillery was deafening. Jup- 
iter Pluvius, not to be outdone by the other 
warring elements delivered the goods in 
bucketfuls until it seemed the very founda- 
tion of his reservoir must have dropped out. 
The lake which had lain so placid in the 
twilight's dying flush, was Itished to fury by 
the intensity of the gale; the waves hurled 
themselves in fiendish rage against the 
beach and receded in mountains of foam, 
only to make a more fiendish onslaught. 

The guy ropes of our canvas home tugged 
and pulled and jerked until it seemed to the 
terrified occupants that they must give way. 
The roaring of the wind, the booming of the 
waves, together with the inky blackness of 
the night, relieved only by the fierce flashes 
of electricity, made a nightmare of horror to 
the terrified campers as they realized that' 
between them and the warring elements 
there lay only a bit of flapping canvas, and 
man is pitiably helpless in the tremendous 
power of the elements. 

The minutes were hours, the hours days 

14 



to the anxious watchers, and over all was 
that impenetrable wall of inky blackness — 
always the blackness for hours and hours. 
After what seemed days to the weary camp- 
ers, the great black pall began gradually to 
lift — streaks of gray began to appear in the 
east; presently the wind cetvsed to tug at 
the guy ropes, the swishing cottonwoods 
fell gradually back to their flutterings; the 
lightning, loath to give up, satisfied itself 
with spiteful flashes here and there, while 
the thunder fell to low rumblings. A bird 
in the distance began to trill its lay. The 
gray streak in the east gradua-Uy merged 
into pale pink, into lavender, into crimson, 
and lo. and behold the sun glints began to 
dance upon the still waters of the lake and 
presto, the god of the elements was smiling 
upon the world once again. 

And now, once more, the rooming ques- 
tion. If you are a woman and have a home 
of your own you ought to breathe a prayer 
of thanksgiving every day of your life for 
your glorious independence. Rather live in 
a sod shanty, if 'tis all one's own, than dwell 
in a palace that belongs to another. The 
roomer is a much abused individual; he is 
deprived of most privileges and nearly all 
rights save that of paying rent. He is not 
allowed to burn the midnight oil owing to 
the increase in the gas bill. He must be in, 

15 



too, at a seemly hour for fear of disturbing 
the family. He is not allowed to console 
himself with the fragrant weed for fear 
smoking might be distasteful to some one in 
the house. 

As to the woman roomer, of which there 
is as large an army as there is of men, the 
rules and regulations are just as strict. The 
piano must be silent for most of the time 
for fear of disturbing somebody's baby or 
somebody's siesta. After ten o'clock no 
sound of gaiety must be heard for fear some 
other roomer who rises at an unseemly hour 
might not get his allotted sleep. Even the 
privilege of regaling one's self with a cup of 
tea is denied her for fear, forsooth, the land- 
lady's ceiling might take on an ebony hue. 
The economical housekeeper turns off the 
heat through the day and the woman roomer 
is compelled to hunt other quarters or 
freeze. In truth because a woman is more 
apt to remain in her room during the day 
than a man, hard hearted, tight-fisted 
home-makers prefer men roomers to mem- 
bers of their own sex. 

"Know of anyone who wants to rent a 
room?" accosted an acquaintance yesterday. 
"My wife prefers someone who is out most 
of the time." "Wouldn't you rather have 
someone who is out all the time?" I suggest- 
ed diabolically, "it might be more conven- 
ient for you." Ye gods! this rooming prop- 
osition is enough to drive a stiint to dis- 
traction. No philantropist in the wide 
world could do a more charitable act than 

16 



to erect a building for the accommodation of 
the homeless who are able and willing to 
pay substantially for a real home where 
they can do absolutely as they please. 

O me, if I had a home of my own I'd turn 
on the gas and light every jet in the house 
until the ceilings were as black as a nig- 
ger's heel. I'd pound the piano until the 
longest long distance player in existence 
would look like a measly duce alongside an 
ace of trump. I'd shout for joy loud enougn 
to wake the dead. I'd do all this gentle 
reader, to commemorate the day of my free- 
dom, the day of absolute independence. If 
you are harboring one of the homeless wand- 
erers, be charitable. Don't be everlastingly 
complaining of their imaginary short com- 
ings. Put yourself in their place and see if 
you might not do likewise. Remember, they 
too have their grievances. In your selfish 
home life try not to forget that the great- 
est happiness radiates from the home circle; 
let some of its effulgent gleams warm the 
heart of the stranger that dwells beneath 
your roof. You lose nothing by it and you 
know not the inestimable gain to another. 



9 

4) 



All men are born free and equal, we are 
assured by our forefathers, but the way fate 
juggles with our destinies is enough to set 



17 



the assertion of our learned ancestors at 
naught. One man is born to a life of ease, 
with limitless wealth at his disposal, while 
another inherits naught but poverty and 
toil. One is born a sovereign to command, 
another a lowly subject whose destiny is to 
serve. One is born a queen with a diadem 
and a throne for hers, while another is born 
a serving maid. One is born into whose life 
naught but roseate hues e're glow, while 
another's colorless horizon is never bright- 
ened by a single ray of sunlight. 

One shall be born with a wholesome body, 
who goes through life unto the threescore 
years and more without an ache or pain, a-n- 
other shall be born with a poor, shapeless 
body, a hideous thing which must be his 
outward form from the cradle to the grave. 
One shall be born whose great intellect shall 
set him upon the world's lofty pinnacles, 
while for another a clouded intellect and a 
blighted reason are his unto the end. Upon 
one woman fate bestows beauty and charm 
and grace and so generously does she be- 
stow her gifts that another must suffer the 
lack of all outward comeliness all the days 
of her life. 

And yet man is born free and equal, we 
are assured. I saw a frail young girl with 
blue rimmed eyes and blue veined temples 
and a pale, sad face waiting upon an ex- 
travagantly clad, rosy cheeked girl just 
about her own age, whose private touring 
car had swung her to the very doors of the 
emporium where she had naught to do but 

18 



I 



revel in the pretty gee-gaws and glittering 
bC'jubles that mean so much to the heart 
of a girl. I could have wept for very pity of 
the frail young thing behind the counter who 
was treated with such obvious condescen- 
tion by the haughty miss. Perhaps, after all, 
the mantle of charity should be spread over 
the poor overworked, underpaid young 
things who satisfy the natural longings of 
their hearts for pretty things by question- 
able means, at least it behooves us not to 
judge them too harshly. 

I saw a fat, haughty dame with her two 
children and a maid board a car not long 
since. The meek, plainly clad maid, who 
was carrying a load of heavy iron toys for 
the boisterous youngsters had evidently had 
her instructions for she sank into an obscure 
corner of the car some distance from the 
haughty dame and hardly dared lift her eyes 
from the floor. When the party dismounted, 
the mistress as utterly ignored the maid as 
though she were a dog and left her trailing 
along in their wake like a whipped puppy. 
I'd rather be a hewer of stones for the rest 
of my days than work for such a woman. 
I refute in toto the assertion of our fore- 
fathers that all mankind is born free and 
equal. 

Any woman who deliberately chooses a 
business career for herself instead of dom- 

19 



esticity, any woman who throws herself into 
the seething vortex of commercialism unless 
driven to it by adverse circumstances ought 
to be committed to an asylum for the feeble 
minded. Women, with their delicate, high- 
strung, sensitive nerves were never intended 
for bread winners; their frail physical organ- 
ization outclasses them in the running with 
their strong, coarse, enduring male compet- 
itors. Business is business the same as "pigs 
is pigs," and no more consideration is 
shown to petticoats than to trousers. 

Men and women alike are rooting at the 
same commercial hog trough, and the big- 
gest, rudest hog roots up the choicest bits 
without any consideration for his compan- 
ions; it's not a case of the survival of the 
fittest by h: long ways in this struggle for 
existence. The Creator knew his business 
when he threw the protection of the home 
about the woman; He intended that' she 
should be shielded from the cares and wor- 
ries and responsibilities incidental to wrest- 
ling a living from this hard old world; 
it's the fool woman's fault that she took the 
bit in her own teeth and bolted from the 
beaten path. She has only herself to blame 
for her fiat against the natural order of 
things. 

The world produced better men when 
women were content to remain in the home 
and encourage them by their tact and sym- 
pathy in their battle with the world. A man 
with the right sort of wife — a home loving 
woman back of him can accomplish infinite- 

20 



ly more than a man whose wife prefers the 
business world. In the natural order of 
things her earning capacity is not as great 
as his and she had far better save the wear 
and tear on her nervous system that a 
business career is bound to make and con- 
tent herself by assisting him to redouble his 
earning capacity. 

A woman is far and away better off to 
have her mind on her simple home duties 
than to be everl^cStingly bartering about 
dollars and cents. She had a heap better be 
piping a roundelay in her little home than 
be croaking in a noisy business pond. She 
had far better be helping some worthy man 
to build himself up than be everlastingly 
scrimping and economizing on her own 
meager wage. Economy— ye, gods! it's the 
whole slogan of a business woman's exis- 
tence from sun rise to sun set, year in and 
year out from the time she makes her en- 
try into the commercial arena up to the 
time of her exit. It's a hard struggle all 
told, the odds are heavily agjxinst her 
and a pity 'tis, 'tis true that the 
rank and file of the world's workers are 
rapidly filling with women while the home 
is steadily growing to be a secondary con- 
sideration. The world needs wives and 
mothers a whole lot more that it needs bread 
winners. 

Art thou also, gentle reader, one of those 
always-going-to-do-it individuals? Are the 

21 



nether regions paved with your good inten- 
tions? If they are not, then thank the good 
Lord above for the wearisome regrets and 
heart-aches you have escaped for the things 
left undone, the kind words left unspoken, 
the good resolution you never kept. One 
little act, no matter how trivial, that is real- 
ly accomplished is worth a cart load of good 
resolutions. The individual who is always 
going to do things never accomplishes any- 
thing. The clock ticks away the seconds, 
the minutes, the hours; the opportunities are 
ticked away with time, and eternity over- 
takes the unfortunate individual before he 
even begins to set about really doing things. 
The little cripple next door — you always 
intended to brighten his long, dreary days 
with a cluster of flowers, but every day 
brought its own duties and the kind act was 
put off from time to time until one day you 
missed the pale little face from its accus- 
tomed place at the window and the bit of 
crepe fluttering from the front door told 
you that all the flowers in the world wouldn't 
iitone for one little cluster unsent that might 
have brought joy to a lonely little soul. The 
white haired old lady whom you intended 
every day to cheer with an hour's reading 
passed to the great beyond before you could 
take an hour from your busy life. The little 
message of comfort you intended to drop to 
a bed ridden friend still remained unsent, 
when one day an ominous black-bordered 
envelope told you that the message would 
fall upon unheeding ears, 

22 



The kind little thing you had stored iij) 
in your mind to say to a dear friend is left 
unsaid while the friend has passed out of 
your horizon and the kindness that would 
have cost you so little and meant so much 
to her has joined the other good intentions. 
You intend some day to be a millionaire, but 
you don't try to make your intention good by 
beginning to save your nickles and dimes 
now. You expect' some day to win a poet's 
laurels but you go on dreaming about it in- 
stead of beginning to compose a sonnet to 
milady's eyebrow or some other touching 
topic dear to the poetic soul. You want to be 
an author and have visions of writing a novel 
that will some day startle the world, but you 
haven't even commenced to outline your first 
story. You intend to break away from some 
bad habit, perhaps, that has you in thrall, 
but you go on from day to day with the in- 
tention stored away in a corner of your mind 
that's fast becoming over run with its load 
of good resolutions untried and after a 
while the habit that could have been as 
easily broken at first as a spider's web has 
become as unflinchable as a steel cable. 
Perhaps you intend some day to become a 
world renowned diva and you go on dream- 
ing of the world's applause while the tedious 
vocal gymnastics remain unpracticed. 

This world is chock full and running over 
with going-to-do-it individuals; their name is 
legion and hades must have millions upon 
millions of miles paved with their good in- 
tentions. The "Do It Now" and "Tempes 

23 



Fugit" placards that these careless individ- 
uals hang about to act as a spur to their 
lagging ambitions have about as much effect 
as the prick of a pin upon an elephant's 
hide. Time is no laggard — it's inexorable in 
its onward march and brings us to the end 
of our career before we have scarce com- 
menced to live and our opportunities to say 
kind things, to do kind deeds, to accomplish 
our ambitions are swept into the darkness of 
time's eternity. Duty and today are ours, the 
future and futurity belong to God. 

There is nothing so detrimental to a boy's 
or girl's success in life as the notion that 
they want a "soft snap," an "easy job" — a 
place where they won't have to work. There 
is no royal road to success, it's won only 
through unremitting toil. Any man who gets 
to the top unless put there through the acci- 
dent of birth, deserves every iota of ac- 
knowledgment he can wring from a hard 
old world. Do the biographies of greut 
men sound as though their pathway had 
been strewn with roses? They invariably 
came from the farm, where they toiled early 
and late, and what knowledge they gleaned 
from their books was obtained after a hard 
day's work. They worked like Trojans, these 
men of destiny, nor thought they were 
abused because they were working over 
time. 

24 



The boy who is looking for a soft snap will 
never reach the top rung in the ladder of 
success— nay, his foot never even strikes the 
first rung. It's only by hard and unremitting 
toil that favorable results can be achieved in 
anything and the boy or girl who is afraid 
of work will always occupy a subordinate 
position in life. Think you if Washington 
had been eternally looking for a soft snap 
he would have arisen to the highest position 
it was within the power of a great nation to 
bestow? If Abraham Lincoln had been afraid 
of work, think you he could have hewn his 
way to the White House? 

And so on through the galaxy of success- 
ful men— the story of their lives is one of 
toil and sacrifice from the beginning. The 
youth of today is not a whit like the hard 
headed, brawney, muscular youth who fol- 
lowed the plough a half century agone; un- 
fortunately families desert the farm and 
flock to the city with the mistaken notion 
that there are better educational facilities 
for their children. The farm is the best 
educational institution in the world; the les- 
sons learned there are of inestimable value 
in forming character and in good, practical 
training along useful lines. Children are 
taught the dignity of labor and from the 
time they are old enough to understand, each 
child is alotted his shiire of the work— idle- 
ness is unknown on the farm. 

The broad fields give them plenty of room 
in which to grow; they are no more like the 

25 



city children than hardy plants of the prairie 
are like delicate hot house flowers. There 
are fewer temptations on the farm than in 
the city; there is little work for the city 
youth to do and during his leisure time, of 
which he posses far more than is good for 
him, he cultivates the expensive and injur- 
ious habit of smoking, and learns, too, the 
insiduous vice of gambling through the med- 
ium of the numerous slot machines, and be- 
fore he is twenty he is inured to every vice 
under the sun. 

His muscles become flabby through dis- 
use and he takes on rather an anaemic ap- 
pearance. He really can't stand much hard 
work, hence his desire for a "soft snap." 
He is too busy hunting up amusements too, 
to consider seriously a life career; I know a 
boy who lost a fine position in a bank be- 
cause he refused to cut out a few of his 
pleasures at the bank president's request. 
They are mighty poor timber for the govern- 
ment to rest upon and our future statesmen 
will have to come from the rank and file of 
the foreigners who have invaded our land 
and allied themselves with American inter- 
ests. 



One of the things that goes to make life 
worth the living is friendship. He who pos- 
sesses friends, e'en though he be poor in 



26 



this world's goods is far and away richer 
than he who counts his gold by the mil- 
lions if he possess not the love of his fel- 
lowmen. Friendship, like everything else in 
life worth while is neither cheaply bought 
nor easily held; it means constant self sacri- 
fice; selfish interests must be put aside; 
selfish desires must be shelved; selfish 
thoughts expunged. Selfishness destroys 
friendship — unselfishness is its corner stone. 

The friendless men and women have only 
themselves to blame; if they show them- 
selves friendly the world will meet them 
half way. If they draw into their shells and 
shut themselves up like clams the world 
will make no effort to distrub their soli- 
tude; life is too short to spend time delv- 
ing into clam shells, 'twere better to be 
basking in friendship's warm light. The 
flower of friendship is well worth all the 
sacrifice one must make in nurturing the 
seedling; it winds its tendrils about one's 
heart in times of affliction and helps to heal 
life's grievous wounds with its tender sym- 
pathy. It shares our joys as well as our sor- 
rows and is as ready with its laughter as irs 
tears. It stands ever ready to serve at all 
times and rich in all that makes life worth 
the living is he who can grapple to his soul 
with hoops of steel innumerable friends. 

Just what we put into life just that much 
do we get out of it and no more. What we 
harvest depends altogether upon what we 
sow. If we scatter the seeds of unkind- 
ness, sarcasm and sefishness then of a sure- 



ty we can't expect our harvest will be white 
with the blossoms of friendship. Kindli- 
ness is the thing that pays in the long run; 
a kindly spirit is worth more to its possess- 
or than unlimited wealth. A smile goes a 
sight farther than a frown and a kind word 
farther than a blow. The world gives back 
smile for smile and frown for frown and 
every sarcastic arrow that leaves our quiv- 
er returns to us laden with the venom of 
unfriendliness. For all the sacrifices we 
make in order to hold our friends, if they 
be worthy, are we amply rewarded in the 
richness and wealth of lasting friendship. 



$ 



And now have we come to the time of 
year when we begin to feel the call of the 
wild. The short, crisp notes of the little 
bob white, the swelling buds, the warm, 
lazy atmosphere are all calling to us to 
throw off the shackles of our close, musty 
offices and go rollicking out in the open. 
One's fingers fairly tingle to get hold of a 
shovel, a spade or a rake to clear up the 
winter's rubbish on the lawn or to spade up 
the rich ground for a garden. Aye, a garden 
is a business man's salvation; it means ex- 
ercise for his body and recreation for his 
mind; the fresh air he breathes invigor- 
ates and refreshes him for the whole day. 
Aside the good the exercise may do him a 

28 



garden is an excellent investment for a man 
with a family, to say nothing of the joy of 
eating the products of his own skill as a 
horticulturist. 

And as for the house wife, a flower gar- 
den is productive of the utmost pleasure as 
well as beiiig of the greatest convenience. 
A little floral centerpiece adds a hundred 
per cent to the family dining table, while an 
ugly mound on the lawn can be transformed 
by very little expense and labor into a 
thing of beauty. I should think any mother 
of a family would be happy to teach her lit- 
tle ones the wonderful workings of nature 
through the object lesson taught by the mar- 
velous transformation of the common place 
little seed into the beautiful bud and finally 
into the exquisite full blown blossom. 

A trailing vine, a rose bush, a floral 
hedge add infinitely to the value as well as 
the looks of a home. If no garden space is 
available a box garden on the porch or be- 
neath the window helps out wonderfully 
in the looks of a place; now that the time 
of seed planting is coming on help to make 
a bright little patch in the part of the world 
wherein you dwell by making a garden. The 
results are ample return for the time spent 
in its cultivation. 

Styles in flowers as well as in every- 
thing else have changed since our grand- 
mother's time. She enjoyed her hollyhocks, 
bachelor's buttons, four o'clocks, marigolds 
and lady slippers quite as much as we do 
our nasturtiums, pansies and asters. The 

29 



old fashioned flowers were not things of 
beauty from an artistic standpoint; they 
grew straight and stiff and formal while 
the colors were positively ugly; they were 
entirely devoid of odor but they were the 
best they had and every farmer's wife in 
the community considered her flower garden 
as much of a necessity as the potato patch. 
It was the only bright spot oft' times in 
the lives of our grandmothers, who knew 
more of drudgery in one day than we of 
this generation do in a year. They sha.^ed 
the farm work with their husbands and at- 
tended unaided to all the household affairs 
besides rearing a large family of children. 
They were spared the trials and tribulations 
of the servant problem because they dis- 
pensed with servants altogether. They 
made their own cheese and butter and in 
fact nearly everything consumed by the 
family were products of their skill. They 
even spun the linen that composed their 
garments and take it all in all they were 
far happier and lived longer than the spoiled 
women of today, who fritter their precious 
time away playing cards for prizes or worse 
yet, money, and who leave the comfort of 
their families in the hands of ignorant ser- 
vants. Shades of our sensible ancesotrs! 
what would they think of their frivilous 
descendants if they knew how they squan- 
dered their time? 



30 



I'm so sick and tired of this mad scramble 
for money that I'd like to take all the green- 
backs in the country, heap them all to- 
gether and touch a match to the pile. I'd 
clap my hands for very joy as the flames 
leaped to the sky. I'd like to take every bit 
of the silver in Uncle Sam's mint, melt it in 
a cauldron and mould it into bullets and I'd 
like to take all the bill collectors in Chrsit- 
endom out of the city limits and riddle them 
so full of silver they'd never want another 
dollar. 

This everlastingly grasping after the al- 
mighty dollar has turned the nation into a 
conscienceless, heartless, unscrupulous King 
Midas. Character, honor, integrity count for 
naught; gold is the sceptre that' rules the 
world. Our millionaires are honored above 
our statesmen, our moneyed men above the 
literary genius. Man is measured by what ho 
has, not by what he is. Commercialism has 
crept into our homes; mothers teach their 
daughters from early girlhood to capture 
a man with money and if she finally 
lands a gilded lobster in her matrimonial 
net the aforesaid designing mamma boasts 
in no measured terms to envious mothers 
of marriagable daughters about the size of 
his fortune. She doesn't care a picayune if 
his character is as black as a raven's wing 
or his head as empty as a last year's bird's 
nest, just so he has the money. I'm going to 
hie me away from this sordid old money 
mad world and go out into the woods ere 
the silver rays of another moon sheds her 

31 



radiance. I'm going where the oxygen don't 
come at so much per square inch or the 
sunshine at so much a bottle, or the concerts 
of the feathered songsters at so much per 
ticket, I'm going where I can gather great 
clusters of pink-petaled roses with dew 
drops shimmering in their pretty hearts 
and where no outrageous price is charged 
by greedy florists for stingy bunches of the 
floral beauties. 

I'm going where nature spreads upon her 
great canvas some more glorious scenes 
than were ever depicted by an artist's 
brush; no admission fee is charged to her 
art gallery — neither at tl:e dawn when she 
blows her awakening trumpet nor in the 
twilight when the meek-eyed bossies add 
the sound of their tinkling bells as they 
amble slowly along the shady lanes, to the 
reposeful study in still life. I'm gcnng 
where fashion plates don't exist and where 
the inhabitants of the woody dells wouldn't 
know a lingerie suit from a gunny sack. I'm 
going where the richest treasures in the 
world are mine without money or price. I'm 
going back to the woods for awhile. 



Wouldn't you hate to live in a country 
where the people waited with breathless 
anticipation for days and weeks the arrival 
of a weazened-up, red-faced bit of humanity 
and when he finally made his appearance in 



32 



the world went wild with joy at the pros- 
pect of a future monarch? Wouldn't you 
hate to live in a country where the cannons 
boomed twice as many booms to announce 
the arrival of a boy as a girl? Wouldn't you 
hate to live in a country where an old stiff 
in gold laces and straps and all sorts of in- 
signias of his royal birth took the new bit 
of humanity on a silver salver, passed it 
along a whole row of stiffs just like himself 
and announced with terrific elation, "Gentle- 
men, it is a prince I" Wouldn't you hate to 
be a queen, if you were a woman, and have 
the first baby you ever brought into the 
world snatched away from you before you 
could hardly experience the first joyful 
throb of motherhood, and put into the hands 
of strange ministers and high officials and 
when you finally did get the precious piece 
of humanity back not be allowed even the 
privilege of "administering the natural food 
the Creator intended should be his? 

Wouldn't you hate to live in a country 
where the accident of birth, alone, has all 
to do with the head of the nation and where, 
be he imbecile or a weakling, you must do 
him honor and close your eyes and ears to 
his short comings? Wouldn't you hate to 
live in a country where, if you were poor, 
your family had to go without the very ne- 
cessities of life in order to let the royal fam- 
ily loll in the lap of luxury? Wouldn't you 
hate to live in a country where, when 
you see your fellow man suffer crying 
wrongs, there is no redress save from a 

33 



stiff-necked monarch? Wouldn*t you rather 
live in a country where the future ruler 
of the greatest and most progressive 
nation in the world is just as liable, 
aye, far more liable, to first see the 
light of day in a humble cottage than a gild- 
ed palace? Wouldn't you rather live in a 
country where ability, and ability alone, 
counts and where every boy in the land 
stands an equal chance of some day being 
the head of the greatest country in the 
world? Wouldn't you rather live in a coun- 
try where girl babies are just exactly as wel- 
come as boy babies.? 

Wouldn't you rather live in a country 
where when the people begin to be imposed 
upon and to suffer wrong, they can put the 
mighty force of the ballot into effect and 
crush it instanter? America! E'en with all 
thy faults of trusts and inflated corporations 
r:nd moneyed knaves, I'd rather dwell in a 
humble cottage 'neath thy stars and stripes 
and breathe the air of freedom than to dwell 
in a gilded palace in any other land. 

And now we are close to the threshold of 
another autumn, already Dame Nature be- 
gins to show signs of decay and there is a 
faint tint of winter's frosty breath in the 
late twilight's cooling breezes. The cotton- 
woods are fairly tinged with yellow and 
their sparse leaves that seem to rustle to 

34 



every passing zephyr seem to send forth 
a sigh for the waning summer. The su- 
mach is beginning to redden beneath its 
huge glossy leaves and the tasselled gold- 
enrod nods its plumy head from all the hills 
and dales round about. Huge fields of sun- 
flowers turn their broad faces to the sun 
on every side while their little sisters, the 
black-eyed susans nod their heads saucily 
to passers by from the roadside. 

The horse mint with its shaggy leaves 
and coarse purple flower grows side by side 
its dainty lavender cousin, the wild mint. 
Huge clusters of delicate lavender blossoms 
with their round fluffy heads and pretty seed 
pod pendants form hedges £x,long the road 
while the distant fields are fairly white with 
great bunches of snow on the mountain. 
These gorgeous floral offerings are dying 
summers' last gift to early autumn; the tas- 
selled corn stalks, whose stiff blades whisper 
of full ears and of bounteous harvests, the 
purple haze that ha-ngs like a soft veil about 
the distant blue-rimmed hills and grows 
only too soon into twilight's early pall, be- 
speak in a language only too plain the time 
of the sear and yellow leaf. 

The common things of life, after all, are 
best — the wild flowers that grow in such 
riotous masses are far more beautiful than 
our hot-house exotics; the untrained warb- 
lers of the forest are far and away superior 
to high priced artists. The exquisite color- 
ing of the sun set, the harmonious blending 
of delicate shades depicted by the hand of 

35 



nature, the sweeping valleys, the undulating 
hills with their lights and shadows that rip- 
ple in soft green waves would put to shame 
the best efforts of the world's greatest ar- 
tists. 

The butterfly with its dainty, gossamer 
wings and delici^-te traceries would ,tax the 
ingenuity of man to form even a cheap imi- 
tation. The common field daisies which nod 
their heads from vale to hillock for miles 
around would defy the cunning of man to 
shape its equal. The silken meshes of the 
spider web's shining strands are woven into 
such exquisite designs as to be the despair 
of human lace makers. Nature reserves not 
the treasures of her store house for the 
wealthy, but dispenses her riches with a 
lavish hand to high and low alike. In reach- 
ing for the stars let us not overlook the 
jewels at our feet for of a surety the best 
things, the most precious things in life, the 
things that make life worth the living, are 
the common things. 

The common people are by far the great- 
est factor in the world's upbuilding. It's 
from among their ranks that our greatest 
statesmen spring. Despise not the common 
little street gamin from whose grimy little 
hand you get your evening paper, for under- 
neath the ragged cap and touseled hair may 
lie the brain of a future president. Even 
the boy who blacks your boots may 
some day become c-: millionaire.. The 
little girl who sings on the streets for 
pennies may some day be a great star in 

36 



the galaxy of grand opera artists. The 
country clod-hopper who follows the 
plow may l)e turning over in his mind as he 
turns the furrows some mechanical device 
which will some day startle the world. 
Despise not the common things. 

4; 4. 

Deliver me from human clams! Deliver 
me from people who are so shut up in their 
own narrow little selves that they can 
utterly ignore the claims of others for con- 
sideration. There's the man or woman who 
fails to pass along the good word that is 
said £xbout a fellowman; he is cheating a 
fellow creature out of what is rightfully 
his and is doing him more of a wrong than 
if he withheld from him something of in- 
trinsic value; a few words of encourage- 
ment are oft' times worth far more than a 
mint of gold and "kind words are more 
than coronets." 

We are too prone to keep within our- 
selves kindly thoughts of others; the word 
of tvppreciation that might mean so much 
to our fellow plodders we keep shut up 
within ourselves; the comfort that we could 
bring into the lives of others with so little 
trouble to ourselves we carelessly overlook. 
The word of appreciation for the thousand 
and one kindly acts of a dear old mother are 
often withheld until her ears are stilled to 

37 



all earthly things and we would give all that 
life holds dear if we could give her one tenth 
of what rightfully belonged to her. There 
are loved ones around and about us today 
whose hearts are hungry for the kindness 
we so selfishly withhold. 

If men were more appreciative of the 
efforts their wives put forth for their com- 
fort and benefit, there would be fewer dis- 
satisfied women in the home. If women 
were more appreciative of the tremendous 
efforts a man puts forth to maintain the 
home, it would lighten his burden wonder- 
fully. Let us not wait until the eyes of our 
loved ones are closed in their last long sleep 
before we shower them with blossoms; let 
us not wait until their ears are dulled to all 
things earthly before we pour forth our 
kindly thoughts. If we have a flower to give, 
let us give it now; if we have a kind word to 
say, let us speak it now; if we have a kind 
act to perform, let us do it now. for e'er 
long the night cometh when the opportunity 
to administer to our fellowman has passed 
and gone forever. 

There are so many starved hearts in the 
world, I'd like to take the human clams and 
shake them clear out of their shells. An 
old man, white haired and stooped with the 
weight of his years, who has almost 
reached the parting of the ways, confided to 
me how bereft of kind and encouraging 
words the years that lay behind him had 
been; how absolutely devoid of apprecia- 
tion were his friends, and now that he had 
come to the years of his inactivity were 

38 



they waking up to his real worth and words 
that would have been so precious to him 
in bygone days now fell upon unheeding 
ears. O, the pity of it! Why don't they leave 
their narrow shells and come out into the 
sunshine of charity and love, where they 
can expand and grow and live? The light 
that's hid cheereth no weary wayfarer upon 
life's darkened journey. A flickering candle 
set upon a- hilltop can do more good than a 
headlight under a bushel. 



$ 

$ 



Jack Frost performed a greater miracle 
the other night than ever was wrought by 
the genii of the magic lamp and lo tmd be- 
hold, the prosaic wold's transformation at 
dawn! The brown, bare limbs and branches 
of the trees were encrusted with myriads of 
frost crystals that sparkled and shone under 
the sun glints like a d&zzling array of pre- 
cious gems. Huge ropes of pearls were 
festooned about the fence rails and house 
tops while every available space was filled 
with the most delicate tracery of lace 
work. The ugly weeds were transformed 
into things of beauty by the magic wand 
and nodded their frost-crowned heads most 
proudly to the passing breeze. E'en the 
blades of grass stood stiff and proud in 
their heavy coats of sparkling crysta-ls. 

39 



Away off to the north the snow-clad hills 
looked like hooded sentinels guarding the 
lavish display of precious gems, and they 
frowned in dismay when old Sol peeped 
over their snowy tops and made sad havoc 
of the sparkling, shimmering, chrystalized 
ftdryland Jack Frost had wrought. 



Of all the impositions inflicted upon a long- 
suffering public the present system of 
tipping is the worst. The patrons of the 
railroads who swell the exchequer of the 
companies to no matter how large an 
amount, get precious scant service from the 
dusky employes unless their palms are 
crossed with silver; the dusky individuals 
eye the change they gingerly shove the 
passenger's way with covetous orbs, and 
unless a good sized tip is forthcoming the 
passenger is henceforth ignored. They are 
pretty cunning, too, these ebony hued 
waiters and the change is most conveniently 
arranged for a gratuitous monetary gift. 

The most industrious one of the bunch is 
the colored gentleman who gets busy with 
the whisk broom towards the journey's end. 
A few lightning strokes at imaginary specks 
of dust and he of the broom looks for a tip. 
The only graceful way to avoid disappointing 
the dusky hued individual is to refuse to 
allow him to manipulate the broomlet over 

40 



your wardroTje. No man, or woman, either, 
for that matter, is game enough to accept 
tlie services of these paid employes without 
a gratuitous offering. 

The railroad companies save themselves 
thousands of dollars annually on salaries by 
allowing the public to be fleeced by their 
employes; the hired help will work for half 
what they would consider their services 
worth if it were not for the tips. If the 
public must pay the salaries of the com- 
pi'jnies' employes, let it be done fair and 
square and above board. Let the price of 
transportation include the expense of ser- 
vices rendered and then all the patrons of 
the road will be treated alike. The tipping 
system has been endured by the long-suffer- 
ing public quite long enough and it's up lo 
the railroad compt-uies to put a stop to the 
imposition before it reaches the point it 
has on the continent where the tourists are 
clamoring for legislation against the graft. 






Now supposing that nature and art, who 
are the best of friends at present, should 
m-;ve an encounter; supposing that nature 
would get angry at art for presuming upon 
her domain and passing off spurious goods 
labeled with her own genuine seal, and 
challenge her to a duel — I say supposing 



41 



such a thing should happen, it's my honest 
conviction that nature would get the worst 
of the bout. 

Art is having her innings now of a surety 
and where once the old world was horrified 
at the thought of the artificial replacing the 
real, it looks on with approval at the gigan- 
tic strides art is making and applauds its 
efforts in putting nature to the bad. Time 
once was when the finger of scorn followed 
the woman who dared add to her looks by 
any artificial means, and among the blue 
laws of the colonial days was a clause which 
protected £■ man against the wiles of the 
painted siren who caught his susceptible 
heart in the meshes of her peroxide tresses. 

Lo and behold what a change hath come 
over this prudish old world! Not a woman 
who pretends to any style but extracts her 
peaches and cream complexion from the 
numerous lotion jars that repose on her 
dressing table. When the complexion pro- 
cess is complete she bids defiance to the 
closest scrutiny while as for looks, O me, 
O my, she tops it all over the country girl 
who relies entirely upon nature for her 
beauty. 

Aye, if nature has been parsimonious with 
a woman she does not sit helpless and be- 
wail her sad fate, she sets about with a zeal 
worthy of a better cause to bring art to her 
assistance — the result is dazzling. If her 
crown of glory consists of a few stray 
wisps of hair as stiff and straight as an 
Indian's she waves it until blest if you could 

42 



tell whether it was a hot iron or nature that 
produced the result. She uses switches and 
"rats" and curls from the hair dressers until 
she possesses an abundance of the longed 
for hirsute adornment. Even the white 
teeth that gleam 'twixt her ruby lips may 
have been supplied by the dentist's art. 

If her figure is bad her dressmaker sup- 
plies the deficiency by a process of ped- 
ding. She studies colors to learn what hues 
will go best with her false complexion and 
store hair. But when a-11 is said and done 
there is no gainsaying she makes a pretty 
picture e'en though one might shudder to 
think what she would look like sans her arti- 
ficiality. She's popular, too, this little made 
up bit of humanity. The average man 
doesn't care a picayune by what process a 
woman makes herself presentable; if she 
makes a pretty picture he doesn't care a 
rap whether she's painted or real. This is 
surely the day of art and the made-up girl 
is on the top wave of popularity. 



Don't be a grouch — whatever else you are 
don't be that. A wet blanket, a whiner, a 
knocker never has any friends and never 
deserves any; if you're down on your luck, 
for goodness' sake keep it to yourself, every- 
body in this world out of swaddling clothes 
has troubles of their own and don't care to 
hear yours; nine times out of ten your con- 
dition is of your own making; it's due to 



43 



some defect in yourself instead of the unfair 
manipulation of fate. Maybe you lack 
courtesy in your business dealings — maybe 
you display a disagreeable disposition to 
your pL-trons; no matter how superior your 
goods, your lack of courtesy will in time kill 
your trade altogether. No one wants to 
transact business with a crank. 

One of the most successful merchants of 
his time owed his success to the uniform 
courtesy of his clerks; if the smallest act 
of discourtesy on their part reached his 
ears they were discharged instanter. In 
this da-y and age when competition is keen 
it behooves every employer to see that his 
employes are civil to his patrons. Courtesy 
is the cheapest and the best possible asset 
with which to commence a business career. 
Not only in business is it a valuable asset 
but in all walks of life. It helps to oil the 
domestic machinery and keeps hti-rmony in 
the home. It is of inestimable value to us 
in all our dealings with our fellowmen, with- 
out it success is impossible. If you are a 
crank, turn over a new leaf at the beginning 
of the new year and see at the end of the 
cycle of months if you haven't rea-ped a 
rich reward not only theoretically but prac- 
tically. 



44 



I wish everybody could hear his or her 
own voice over the telephone; some of these 
rasping-voiced old grouches would have 
their vocal tones filed if they could hear 
themselves as others hear them. If any- 
thing goes wrong the grouch pours the vials 
of his or her wrath upon the unoffending 
head of the telephone girl, who, fortunate- 
ly, is blessed with a serene, even temper 
and a soft soothing voice that does its best 
to smooth ruffled tempers. Now, if you 
will stop to think that maybe a hunderd 
other old grouches have been as testy and 
disagreeble as you that same day, and if 
you figure how sorely the patient girl at the 
other end of the 'phone is tempted to lose 
her temper and give the whole kit of old 
grouches just what they deserve, maybe 
you might be a little less peppry. How'd 
you like to be the telephone girl and have 
to listen to complaints couched in harsh, 
shrill tones from morning until night? How 
long do you think you could hold your 
tongue, eh? 

A pleasant voice is one of the most pre- 
cious, and more's the pity, the scarcest of 
possessions. The modern woman's voice is 
shrill, high-pitched and utterly unmusical; it 
grates on the nerves like the squeak of a 
saw. Her laugh, likewise is loud and shrill 
and nervous; the modern woman is entirely 
lacking in repose. She not only indicates 
it in her voice but in her every action; she 
has no reposeful years; even the twilight 
of life sees her chasing after illusive pleas- 

45 



ures if she is wealthy and finds her among 
the world's toilers if she is poor. She does- 
n't know the meaning of the word rest, and 
doesn't want to, and her strenuous life is 
shortening her years by at least a score. 






Here's to the man of forty! Hovering as 
it were on the line which joins youth with 
old age, he has lost the foolishness of the 
latter while as yet he has not come to the 
foibles and afflictions of the former. His 
intellectual capacity is at its keenest; 
physically he is at his best; he is discreet 
in his judgment of men and affairs. He 
is slow to wrath and while he ha-s left be- 
hind the hotheadedness of his youth he 
still retains its vim and energy. He is 
young enough to be interesting to youth and 
experienced enough to be agreeable to old 
age. 

He is a man of action; heretofore his 
time has been spent in planning and in 
storing up knowledge for the future. Now 
has he come to the time of his greatest 
activity. The nation refuses to trust the 
reigns of government to the hands of youth 
and not until a man has passed the two- 
score mark is he deemed capable to sit in 
the world's high places. Our legislative 
halls very seldom harbor a man less than 



46 



forty, and perchance they do, fellow con- 
gressmen laugh to scorn the judgment of 
youth and their opinions carry no weight. 

The man of forty has either figured out 
through his own experience or that of 
others a philosophy of life which generally 
makes of him an optimist; the crushing 
blows which fate deals out to him he meets 
with the courage of & stoic, and while he 
may have lost the impressionable tempera- 
ment of early youth, yet for that very reason 
does he escape the excruciating suffering 
that follows in the wake of early misfortunes. 
He lacks the foolish self-conceit of youth 
and yet is fully apprecictive of his own 
power; he knows he is of high commercial 
value to the world and demands his price. 

He is cautious, as a rule, and seldom ven- 
tures a project without first seeing his way 
to a successful terminaiton. He not only 
grinds out laws for us but enforces them 
as well; politicians are too wise to place a 
beardless youth upon the seat of judgment 
and he who is called upon to pronounce 
sentence upon his fellowmen has invariably 
passed the two-score mark. In truth and in 
fact the man of forty is a distinct necessity; 
it is he whose clear eye and steady hand 
guides our ship of state. Eliminate his good 
sense and clear judgment and this great 
nation would count for naught in the world's 
reckoning. 



47 



If you're a woman and have the averctge 
woman's vanity, you won't have a shred of 
it left by the time you've made half the 
rounds of the millinery stores in search of 
head covering. If ever there was a time of 
year when I'd gladly exchange fluffy ruffles 
for trousers; if ever there was a time when 
my soul yearned to be a man, it's when the 
season changes and I'm compelled by sense- 
less custom to put myself into the hands of 
villainous milliners. A man, bless his 
sensible soul, wears the same style hat year 
after year; he knows just exactly what he 
wants when he goes after his head-gear and 
the process takes not over fifteen minutes at 
the longest; if it's a good fit and the price 
suits, both the customer and proprietor are 
satisfied. He wants to wear just wha-t 
every other man is wearing; he doesn't 
have to stop to consider individuality and 
style. 

But it's an altogether different proposition 
with a woman; in the first place there are 
a thousand and one different styles to choose 
from and the bewildering mass of feathers 
and felt in all shapes and sizes but iidd to 
the purchaser's confusion. Then the fussed 
up, overwhelmingly magnificent clerks with 
their yards and yards of store hair and 
peachy complexions and their steady run 
of side remarks are anything but an aid in 
the nerve racking business. "That hat is 
exceedingly becoming, I assure you," chir- 
ruped one of the fussed up pieces of human- 

48 



ity as I stood in the torture chamber trying 
to balance one of the latest crazy creations 
on my cranium, "it's a dream," went on 
Fluffy Ruffles, who ought to be drawing a 
good salary on a yellow journal instead of 
selling hats. "It's a scream, that's what it 
is," and I sent the offending piece of millin- 
ery spinning down the counter. "Tee-hee, 
you're so funny," giggled Miss Ruffles as she 
chased after the lid. Funny — ye gods, after 
standing for two solid hours trying on fifty 
thousand different and distinct styles of head 
gear, everyone of which made me look a 
worse fright than its predecessor, and — 
funny! 

"You'll get used to these styles," purred 
Fluffy as she adjusted an unusually atro- 
cious bunch of felt over my ears, "they are 
very fetching and &re quite the latest out," 
and she stood at a distance to admire the 
inverted wash basin that was quite the 
latest creation in fashion's retvlm. O, these 
millinery shops and these milliners are 
a snare and a delusion. From the origina- 
tors to the salesmen they are a bunch of 
deceivers thsit prey upon the vanity of 
women. They band together for her un- 
doing; they invent some freakish style and 
brand it with their approval and women 
haven't the courage to throw off their 
tyranical yoke, but meekly submit and ac- 
cept, without a murmur, any fantastic style 
the fashion dictators have a mind to inflict. 
They follow their leaders as submissively 
as £• flock of sheep. Would that we had the 
courage to defy the despots! 



Jack Frost blew his icy breath o'er this 
neck of the woods last week, and presto, the 
change! The sportive little murcury bulb 
in the thermometer chased itself way below 
the zero mark; window panes took upon 
themselves intricate traceries as delicate as 
tho' woven by a fairy's wand. Jack Frost 
pinched the- noses and nipped the ears' of 
pedestrians until they were fiery red; one's 
breath streamed upon the icy air like filmy 
banners of chiffon and the snow crunched 
noisily beneath one's feet. Travelers 
scurried along like frightened rabbits seek- 
ing shelter. Even the horses felt the 
effect of the ozone in the atmosphere and 
cantered along at a lively gait their hoofs 
ringing out sharp and clear in the frosty air. 
Hoary old winter has caught the world in 
his icy grasp at last. He spreads his white 
mantle o'er hill and dale, o'er highways and 
by-ways and makes a thing of beauty of a 
bleak, barren, dreary old landscape. He 
locks the swift flowing streams and babbling 
brooks in his icy grasp and bids them hold 
their peace until the balmy air of spring 
loosens his hold. The joys of the yuletide 
follow in his wake and he fairly breathes 
good cheer and jollity from the beginning of 
his frosty reign until its end. 

I heard a strapping lumux whining about 
the cold the other day while he stuck as 
close to the radiator as a sick kitten to a hot 
brick; he complained in no unmeasured 
terms of this beastly climate and vowed 
'twould be his last winter in the frozen 

50 



north. Fie! the sooner such mollycoddles 
migrate to a warmer clime, the better; they 
haven't enough red corpuscles in their veins 
to color their blood. They haven't as much 
backbone as a jelly fish. . 

The bone and sinew of the country comes 
from the middle west, where the bracing 
air acts as a spur to flagging ambition and 
makes the red blood that stimulates an 
active, wide-awake, thoroughly alive body 
and mind. The frost belt produces the gi- 
gantic brains thix:t invent the wonderful de- 
vices that are used for the benefit and 
pleasure of all mankind through countless 
ages; the men of massive intellect who con- 
tribute to the world's good in the realm of 
literature or statesmanship are invariably 
men who have been inured to the rigors of 
winter. Nothing of a creative nature comes 
from the tropical clime; the lethargy of the 
balmy atmosphere saps the inhabitants of 
their vitji'lity and they are utterly devoid of 
ambition. 

I saw a man the other day who ought to 
be given a free transportation instanter to 
an atmosphere thiit fairly sizzles; the molly- 
coddle wore ear muffs. Ye gods! think you 
the men of the past century or more cod- 
dled themselves like babes in swaddling 
cloths? Did Washington take time to heat 
a soap stone for his feet before he started 
across the Delaware? Did the "minute 
men," think you, wear chest protectors or 

51 



goloshes? Come, come, you white corpus- 
cled individuals, let Jack Frost nip you oc- 
casionally and set your blood to circulating. 
Take a run in the crisp air — it will bring 
the color to your cheeks, the snap to your 
eyes and put new life in your sluggish veins. 
'Twere better than a quaff of new wine. 



$ 
j) $ 



The installment plan business is the worst 
curse of modern trade and I'd like to take 
every vender of household and sundry arti- 
cles who preys upon the susceptibilities of 
the housewife with his pay ten-cents-a-week 
plan, in jail. The proposition submitted by 
the oily tongued peddler hoodwinks the 
housewife into the belief that in the first 
place she is in dire need of the particular 
line of goods he carries, and in the next 
place she can't afford to miss the opportunity 
of purchasing the article or articles in 
question for ])ractically nothing. Twenty- 
five cents a week doesn't sound bad and 
before she knows it, she falls a- victim to the 
blandishments of the peddler. At first, 
while she revels in the newness of her pur- 
chase, she pays the weekly stipend cheer- 
fully, and hardly seems to miss it as the 
aforesaid vender of wares assured her, but 
after awhile when her purchase is getting 



52 



shabby thi'ough usage, the weekly amount 
is rather begrudgingly paid, and she com- 
mences to figure how fast a quarter a week 
counts up, after all, and how hard it is to 
spare it from her perhaps meagre weekly 
cdlowance. By the time the thing is paid 
for, it is often entirely worn out, and she 
fairly hates the sight of the collector, who 
never fails to make his frequent visits. 

Besides, she has paid almost twice what 
she could have gotten it for, had she paid 
cash. The installment man isn't investing 
his good money for nothing, by any mea-ns. 
In larger purchases, it's the same, only the 
rate of interest is correspondingly higher 
and the payments are so much harder to 
meet. It's far easier to deny one's self and 
make s&crifices in order to pay for a thing 
before it passes into one's possession than 
afterwards. 

Many a young wife is wearing a diamond 
engagement ring that is not paid for, on 
account of the accursed installment plan 
business, and thousands of young men are 
commencing domestic life with any number 
of unpaid bills hanging over them, aye, even 
the clothes on their backs may not be paid 
for. No young couple ought to begin life 
without the firm resolve to pay cash for 
everything they have, or go without. This 
business of running in debt is a twin evil to 
the installment plan curse, and many a 
wreck morally, mentally and physically has 
been caused by it. There is no question that 

53 



a person making purchases on credit' will 
buy far more freely than if he pays cash. 
That's the reason all business houses en- 
courage a credit business; it swells their 
receipts, but the poor purchaser finds to 
his sorrow that his bill is away beyond his 
expectation at the end of the month, and in 
making an inventory of his purchases, finds 
that he could very nicely have done without 
fifty per cent of them. 

If all business was transacted through 
cash business alone, no such thing as bank- 
ruptcy would be known, business would be 
on a solid basis, there would be no worry 
over unpaid bills and, while the family 
might be compelled to go without a few lux- 
uries, at least the necessities could be pa-id 
for and the head of the house would have 
less of a burden to carry. Neither would 
there be such a thing as dead beats who ex- 
tort a living, aye, and a luxurious living, at 
the expense of duped creditors. The cash 
system is far and away the best. 

$ $ 

Eleanor Phipps Stewart, a self-confessed, 
self-despised and hopeless spinster of 35, in 
a recent magazine article makes a confession 
in a heart to heart talk with her readers in 
which she bemoans the cruelty of fate in 
denying her the life companionship of a 
man. "Marriage," quoths Eleanor, "is indis- 
pensable to a woman; a single woman, with- 

54 



out a man at her side is nothing — without 
his presence to escort her and give the 
stamp of approval there can be no theaters, 
no dinners, not even a meal after 6 o'clock. 
She can see nothing, enjoy nothing. The 
most necessary article in the world to the 
comfort and poise of the feminine mind is 
man." 

All married women according to envious 
Eleanor are plump and round and pretty and 
their years rest lightly upon them. They 
are free from care and worry and their lives 
are one long sweet song, and poor Eleanor 
regrets immeasurably that it is too late for 
her to stick her head into the matrimonial 
noose and join the happy throng. Eleanor 
tells the truth — in part; of a truth a happy 
marriage is preferable to a single life and 
granted that all men are kind and consider- 
ate a woman were the veriest fool to plod 
her way alone, but Eleanor, dear, a pity 
'tis, 'tis true, but 'tis true, 'tis pity that men 
are not all kind and considerate and the 
picture of connubial bliss which the writer 
has depicted so glowingly is as oft' a carica- 
ture as the truth. Dry your lachrymal 
glands Eleanor, and cheer up, married 
women shed as many tears over their mar- 
ital woes as old maids over their loneliness. 

You never married a man, Eleanor, clothed 
with all the ideals your foolish woman's 
fancy could conjecture only to find yourself 
sadly disillusioned; you never experienced 
that sickening anguish of the soul that 
comes to a woman when she learns too late 

55 



that her ideal is made of the rankest clay. 
You never found yourself bound for life by 
indissoluble ties to a man who, viewed in 
the garish light of wedded life was divested 
of every trait wnereby you might hang a 
shred of respect for him. You never had to 
scrimp and economize on the mere pittance 
a penurious man saw fit to dole out to you. 
You never married a man and brought chil- 
dren into the world for him through unutter- 
able physical anguish and then when your 
good looks and youth were gone have him 
discover an "affinity," younger and better 
looking than you and throw you aside in 
your old age like a withered orange. Of a 
truth, Eleanor, you have missed a lot. 

But let's see, Eleanor, maybe there is hope 
yet. Thirty-five — that's not such a great 
age now-a-days when temperament, not years 
mark our time of life. Why 'twas only 
yesterday I was exchanging confidences with 
a charming bachelor woman who 'fessed up 
to 37 and who has suitors galore in her 
train; she can have her pick of c-ny number 
of fine chances and wins far more admira- 
tion than her young sisters in their 'teens. 
Men are growing to demand good, sound 
common sense rather than beauty in their 
wives and maybe, Elei^nor, even though you 
have lost a great share of your beauty, 
your brains will have a part in winning a 
Prince Charming. 

At ii:nj rate, Eleanor, don't be goose 
enough to repeat your assertion that marri- 
age is indispensable to a woman's success 

56 



in life. Women like Kate Field, Florence 
Nightingale, Frances Willard and Clara Bar- 
ton might laugh at you. And as for needing 
a male companion for theaters or dinner 
parties — why verily, Eleanor, you must be a 
product of a generation long since dead and 
gone. The bachelor woman is restricted by 
no rules or regulations; she can rottm about 
at her own sweet will as freely as her 
brother. She has her own establishment 
and entertains the same as her married sis- 
ter — in fact she has the same identical priv- 
ileges and is far from being the weepy in- 
dividual the writer of the spinster's con- 
fession would have us believe. However, 
Eleanor, I don't mean to disparage matri- 
mony — it's the only way the Lord intended 
men and women should live, but bear this 
unction to your soul, self-confessed, self- 
despised spinster, that its pathway is strewn 
with thorns as well as roses and if you have 
missed the fragrance of its roses so also 
have you missed the anguish of its thorns. 



^ 




The brass-throated bell in yon clock tower 
is pealing forth the hour; yet in seemingly 
no time will it record the passing of another; 
the tongue of time will wag long after you 
and I are swept into the sea of eternity. 
Long after we slip the leash of our petty du- 
ties on this mundane sphere and get us 



57 



hence where time is of no consequence, will 
the faithful recorders register the passing 
hours. There will be seed time and harvest, 
and we will wot not of either; there will be 
births and deaths and marriages, hopes and 
joys, suffering and sorrow for others of 
whom we know not or even dreamed, long 
after our eyes have been closed and our 
voices hushed by the deep-throated arch- 
ives of time. Happy-hearted youngsters, 
whose parents have not yet seen the light 
of day will be playing marbles in the street, 
just as youngsters are doing now, the sweet 
girl graduate wi.l have the same high hopes 
as her sister today; circuses will pitch their 
tents and tinseled equestrians will amuse the 
public, just the same; glittering pageants 
will parade before gaping throngs; the day 
of independence will be celebrated with the 
same vim that characterizes the nation's 
anniversary today; the leaves will turn to 
flaming reds and yellows, football heroes will 
be striving to gain their goals then as now; 
the yuletide, with its tidings of peace and 
good will, with its spirit of gift-giving and 
kindness to our fellowmen, will slip around 
then as now. 

Human nature is unalterable; the things 
we do today are the things that our ancest- 
ors, since time began have done and that 
human beings long after the present gener- 
ation has passed away will be doing; the 
same thoughts and ambitions that throbbed 
through their beings hold sway in ours; we 
are born imitators and there is nothing ab- 

58 



solutely new under the sun. We might, to- 
be-sure, startle some of our bewhiskered, 
long-haired, antidiluvian ancestors with 
some of our innovations, and mayhap the 
generations to come might prove an eye- 
opener to us centuries hence, but nevertlie- 
less, human nature remains unchanged. 

We are no worse and no better than those 
who have gone before, and neither will the 
ones to come be any worse or any better 
than we; we are not one whit more sensible 
than they when it comes to the matter 
of dress, a-nd our prevailing styles are just 
as grotesque as those that prevailed at any 
ancestral age, neither will our successors 
display any more discretion than we. We 
are coming to a woman's age, but our ances- 
tors, too, knew an ags when women pre- 
vailed; when women become Amazons men 
are bound to become weaklings — so they 
learned and so will we — history repeats it- 
self. Time shoves us off the stage of life, 
but those who come after will a-quit them- 
selves no better than we, we can rest 
assured. Yet again is the brass-throated 
bell clanging out the hour — time, thou art 
the leveler of ranks, a- creator of joys, a 
healer of sorrows, an avenger of wrongs, a 
recorder of good and evil, and e'en the 
millions of the great cannot buy one second 
from thy vast storehouse. 



THE END. 



DEC 87 1909 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



llllllllllllllllllllliliilili 

020 994 49;! 1 




